


Alternia On Ice

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Ice Skating, No Profanity, Work In Progress, and cut into bite sized pieces, canon is slowly simmered, half of one chapter is a coffee shop au, so it's not enough to tag as a coffee shop AU but it's fun to mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: If Sgrub had never existed... what would the Alternian trolls do with their spare time? The only logical conclusion would be ice skating! Only the greatest and most talented trolls can make it to the top. Where will this go? Who knows!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Homestuck](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/4904) by Andrew Hussie. 



> First of all, this is NOT a Yuri On Ice AU! This is just an AU where everyone likes to ice skate. I hadn't even watched Yuri On Ice when I made up this concept. As for other notes, it is not essential that you have finished Homestuck before reading this work. The only real things you should know are the personalities and tendencies of the Alternian trolls. As a matter of personal pride, I will strive to keep this a profanity-free fic. Needless to say, Gamzee and Karkat won't be talking much.  
> I think it's worth noting that I have never set foot in a skating rink before! If I had, that foot would have slipped for sure. So I apologize if this depiction of ice skating isn't really accurate.
> 
> More chapters to come if I get good enough feedback!

There's nothing quite as perfect as an unmarred skating rink. It’s so smooth and rounded. It seems solid, but any person with common sense would know the dangers of a perilous slippery surface such as this. In a frigid sort of limbo, the ice is suspended in a perpetual state of equal shimmering beauty and hard unforgiveness. Any skater would feel a bit guilty for leaving a mark on such a surface, but somehow the tiny scrape of a blade feels insignificant to a great ice field like a skating rink. Ice is a cold mistress, but she is stunning in her own way.

To a few certain trolls on Alternia, the ice seems almost like a pool of milk, glowing under the lights around it. When Nepeta stepped onto the rink, she half expected it to ripple underneath her blade. Perhaps she had spent too much time with her skating partner. It was a good thing she was going onto the ice before him, she thought. He might have gone to ridiculous lengths to taste the enormous pool of milk! The thought of Equius stooping down to lick the ice made Nepeta giggle. She gazed upon the shimmering surface once more, imagining she was in a teacup. Grinning, she excitedly pushed off into the swirls of milky tea. With each touch of her blades to the ice, she stirred it to create swirling patterns in the smooth drink. She, in a flurry of imagination, sought out another to share in the vision.

“Equius!” She called to her partner, who was just pushing off onto the ice.

“Yes?”

“Do you take sugar in your tea?” Equius, frowned in contemplation of the out-of-place inquiry.

“That’s a bit of a... strange question.”

“But that’s not the point! Do you?”

“What?”

“Do you take sugar in your tea, silly?”

“Well… if I ever drank tea, I’m sure I would.”

“Then you’d better watch out! You’re about to run into a huge cube right meow!” Nepeta, still separated from reality, pounced upon Equius to save him from a deadly collision with a giant sugar cube. Her attack would have knocked Equius over if it weren’t for his uncanny trait of extreme strength.

“I fail to see your meaning in this foolishness,” grunted Equius, easily lifting her weight and holding her off the ground. He was almost like a mother cat carrying her kitten by the scruff, except he had a much more muscular complexion.

“C’mon, Sweatquius! Where’s your sense of imagination?” implored Nepeta, squirming a bit in the air, very obviously in vain.

“I don’t have one.”

“Don’t be silly! Efurryone does!”

“Does not.”

“Does too!”

“I won’t start this again.”

“I’m gonna keep going!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.” On this word, Equius playfully launched Nepeta up in the air in an attempt to silence her. By a stroke of luck, the throw was actually quite well-constructed. Nepeta sailed up in the air, her legs and tail forming a neat arc above her as she twisted to stick the landing. She landed perfectly on her feet, as cats usually do, barely even stumbling. Nepeta sealed the act by striking a cute pose. Her tail swished in pleasure as she turned and smiled at Equius.

“That throw was pawsitively exquisite!” she chirped. “I’ll make sure that gets incorpurrated into the choreography.”

“I hope it’s only once,” muttered Equius as he wiped his brow in a long, extended stroke. “Lifts like those make me... sweat.”

“Eww! You’re so gross.” Nepeta pushed on Equius’ arm, somehow expecting him to move at all. Instead, she simply propelled herself backwards surprisingly fast. She swung her arms and crouched lower to the ice to keep from falling over onto the frigid, stony surface. She succeeded in maintaining her balance, but at the cost of enough dignity to make Equius smile.

“What’s so funny?” Nepeta inquired, knowing full well what had caused Equius’ expression.

“Nothing,” said Equius, a bit more hurriedly than usual. Nepeta’s tail brushed across the ice, stirred by the cold that had seeped in from the last few seconds of stillness. She bared her teeth in a bashful grin.

“Are you sure? It seemed to me like you were amewsed about something.”

“Well, you were mistaken.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that look on your face, then?”

“My normal expression,” said Equius, suppressing a smile.

“You normally look like you’ve drunk some sour milk?”

“Manely.” Equius wasn’t even trying to hide his beaming expression at this point. Nepeta gave a chirping giggle.

“Are we gonna purractice or what?”

“Right.”

“Okay!” Nepeta pushed her way back to her partner, her delicate feet sweeping in gentle curves on the hard frozen surface. She slowed to a stop by his side and took a brisk hold of his sweaty palm. “Now… what shall we do?”

“Uh… I haven’t done a lift in a while.”

“Okay. Shouldn’t be hard fur you!”

Hand in hand, the two trolls kicked off, gently carving the ice to propel themselves forward. Equius remembered well the rush of the frigid air against his moist skin. After the season ended, he hadn’t even known what to do with himself. It was good to be back on the ice after the long Alternian summer. He felt at home, as if he was galloping across the hills with his hoofbeast kin. He didn’t feel his hand slipping from the grasp of his partner.

“Equius! Slow down! Don’t furget about me!”

“Oh. Sorry.” He slowed to a pace that would accommodate Nepeta’s speed.

“Which lift will we purractice?”

“Um…” Equius trailed off, never to finish the thought. He found it much easier to act than speak. Promptly, he reached over to Nepeta and lifted her into the air by the hip. Nepeta, taken a bit off guard by the sudden change in position, gave a small squeak. She barely faltered in her position, however. Equius was strong enough to guide her hand into a stable position. Regaining her composure, Nepeta felt comfortable enough to let go with one of her hands.

For a few seconds there in the air, Nepeta almost lost track of reality. Suspended upon her moirail’s single extended arm and shoulder, she watched the spinning world around her distantly. How surreal it was to be here again, dancing as if the last season hadn’t even happened! Picking up the pieces had never seemed so simple and easy. She wondered if Equius felt the same. Then again, his head wasn’t being spun around at a relatively brisk speed.

Speaking of the equine troll, he was just about ready to assist Nepeta out of the lift. His hand came gently to Nepeta’s hip and she gracefully spun out of her position. Less gracefully, Equius loosened his grip too soon. While Nepeta’s legs were still horizontal, Equius made the mistake of trusting physics to carry her the right way. Physics, like the cruel mistress she is, did not comply. Nepeta did land on her feet, being conveniently feline, but she also landed upon her hands, sliding to a halt with her face inches from the frozen surface.

Equius was silent. His eyes showed a sharp change in mood. Nepeta hurried up to her feet to comfort her friend and assure him that his mistake wasn’t a big deal. But she had scarcely opened her mouth before a clap resounded from the sidelines, followed by another clap a heartbeat later. Nepeta whirled around to spot the source of the slow clap. When she met Vriska Serket’s eyes, Nepeta gave a surprised mew.

“Absolutely outstanding,” Vriska sarcastically proclaimed, pacing the edge of the ice like a snarky anime villain. “With a landing like that, you might outscore the zamboni driver!” As the renowned skater taunted them, Nepeta’s eyes widened.

“You’re… Vwhiskers Sercat!” Nepeta stammered, unaffected by Vriska’s latest comment on their skating skill.

“Don’t call me that,” Vriska muttered.

“Hello, Vriska,” Equius rumbled. Vriska slid out onto the ice in a surprisingly condescending manner, each pace carefully timed to convey its maximum potential for sarcasm.

“Hey, neighbor. How’s your lusus?” She asked Equius.

“Arthour is performing his duties well.”

“Glad to see at least _someone's_  lusus is worth anything.” There was a palpable silence following Vriska’s sarcasm. Equius, being unwilling to keep up a conversation, made no effort to break it. A few seconds passed before Vriska decided to speak again.

“Better at holding up weights than a conversation, as always?”

“Yes,” was Equius’ concise reply.

“How about you, whiskers? Are you gonna talk?” Vriska inquired, turning her attention towards the smaller feline troll.

“Um, yeah…” Nepeta timidly approached, thinking of so many questions and being unable to ask any of them. “Vwhisk--I mean… Vriska?” she squeaked.

“Yeah?”

“Why… oh... never mind!”

“Um, okay?”

“She wants to know why you are here,” interjected Equius, knowing his moirail’s intentions well.

“Oh yeah. Scratch assigned me to help your choreography. He thinks I’ll be able to help your performance.”

Nepeta was close to complete implosion.

“You’re… our _choreografur?!_ ”

“Yeah. I guess.” As Nepeta nearly fell over, Equius regarded this notion with less excitement.

“I am pleased to have the assistance of a blue blood…”

“You sure about that, big guy?”

“Yes. But I am not sure… about your…”

“My what?”

“...Choreographic tendencies.”

“Choreographic tendencies,” Vriska repeated sourly. “Look, Scratch put me with you to help you. You’re gonna do what I tell you to. Okay?”

“But... I am your superior.”

“Not on the ice. So kindly get off that high hoofbeast you’ve found yourself on. We’re gonna need to start working on your lifts.”

“Now?”

“When else would we do it? After the championship? Come on. Show me your best lift. Ready, Nepeta?”

“Y-yeah!” Nepeta cried, her tail a bit bushier than normal.

“Then let’s get started. Show me what you’ve got!”

 

Minutes in the future (but not many)...

 

Two royal-blooded trolls pushed their way past the front door of the championship rink. Eridan didn’t even wait for the door to close behind him to make a snide remark.

“I’d almost forgotten how many landdwellers run around up here. Why did you reserve the rink in the middle of the city again?” Feferi rolled her eyes.

“Because it’s the biggest one. Anyways, I thought you didn’t care about landdwellers anymore!”

“I don’t want to kill them all anymore. That doesn’t mean I like them.”

The two trolls pushed through a set of average-sized metal doors into the vast skating rink. A gust of cold air rushed up to meet them, blowing past their horns and making Feferi shiver a bit. Still, she kept on walking, her shoes clicking on the concrete like the queen she was destined to become. The rink space was enormous, but these two royal presences strutted along as if they owned the place. Technically, Feferi did, but she didn't pay much mind to what she had. She’d come here to skate, after all!

Hanging above the frigid puddle of ice was a sizeable four-sided jumbotron, noticeable even while it wasn’t being used. Thousands of individual seats lined the dimly lit stands, barely standing out in the darkness. Only the shining rink was illuminated. That was all the trolls needed at this moment. As they stepped to the edge of the ice, Feferi sighed happily, memories of this place flooding her mind.

“Remember last time we were here, Eri? We were on the stands. The crowd was chanting our names and everything!”

“They were finally giving us the attention we deserve.” Eridan said this coldly, making Feferi slump her shoulders a bit.

“But wasn’t it nice to earn it for a change?”

“I guess.” The two stopped for a while to take in the sight of the large building they found themselves in. It wasn’t much bigger than their hives, but it was a bit strange to have a room so open. Eridan couldn’t decide if it felt exposed or liberating.

Sitting down on a few nearby seats, they both strapped on their skates, careful to fasten their laces tightly. The heiress of Alternia couldn’t be seen skating over her own laces, could she? She must be a shining example of grace and regality. It put a unique kind of pressure on the young troll. Pondering her responsibilities, she stood up and took her position at the ice’s edge.

Effortlessly, Feferi glided out across the rink. She rather enjoyed the feel of moving with minimal effort. Swimming was fairly effortless to her, but she had so much more resistance across her body in the water. If she could, she would always travel atop the water instead of through it. Her feet swept back and forth, each communicating with the other in a sort of harmony. Without really thinking about it, she looped around and around, sometimes backward, sometimes forward. Despite her own hair buffeting her in the face, she found the experience exhilarating every time.

Eridan, on the other hand, wasn’t really bothered to indulge in simple enjoyment in the physical sense. Skating wasn’t a passion of his. Rather, his pleasure came from seeing his partner enjoying herself. She really was quite beautiful when she was happy, and even more so when she was performing such a graceful dance. If pair skating wasn’t a team sport, he would have been content to just watch her. But he was doing this for her, just like everything else he did.

“Whale? Aren’t you coming? Or are you just going to stare at me for all our practice time?” Feferi broke Eridan’s reverie, bringing him back to his duty as the skating partner of the heiress.

“Yeah. I’m coming.” Willingly and deliberately, Eridan slid out to meet her.

Just then, they heard the click of a metal door as it was pushed open. Both skaters regarded the new visitor, but only Feferi recognized the yellow blooded troll. He tentatively stepped a bit closer to the ice to deliver his message.

“Hey, Fef. I figured I should tell you not to look for me in the booth. I’m technically on break, so I won’t be there.” Feferi gave a friendly smile, fastening her flowing ebony hair in a ponytail at the crown of her head.

“Shore thing, Sol. Thanks!” Feferi called to him. Good. This was all Sollux was supposed to do. Talk to Feferi, then leave. Frankly, he wasn't sure why he had done it. He could have left her to figure it out. In fact, he usually avoided speaking to others altogether. But he just... felt that she should know. With a start, Sollux realized that he had lingered a bit too long in thought. Without another word, he departed from the room, leaving Eridan a bit confused.

“Who was that?” he questioned his partner, a bit defensive of his friendship.

“Oh, that’s Sollux, the lighting guy. He was nice enough to work a few more hours to keep us from skating in the dark!”

“How nice for a filthy lowblood like him to do his duty.”

“Eridan! Be nice! Lighting is a reely difficult field, you know!”

“Whatever. Let’s… just skate.”

“Okay.” Both of them began to move, synchronized with each other to near perfection. Feferi’s strides extended just a tiny bit to seamlessly match her partner’s, leaving the two trolls going at exactly the same speed, despite not touching one another at all.

“Do you know if we have our music yet?” asked Eridan, mirroring Feferi’s motions.

“No, our choreographer was supposed to meet us here with the music. Guess he's running late.” Carefully pushing against momentum, they turned a smooth corner.

“Who did Scratch get us this time?”

“Oh, you’d be pleased. He's a purple blood and a great skater! His name is Gamsea Mackerel. Oh, sorry! Gamzee Makara! I couldn't resist making those puns.” Eridan groaned at the first mention of Gamzee’s name, recognizing it even through Feferi’s habitual nautical puns. He dropped out of sync a little bit due to his emotional change.

“That disgraceful clown? What was Scratch thinking?” Eridan muttered.

“You know him?”

“We’ve talked before. Vriska knows him, so he rubbed off on me like the mud he is.” Upon hearing this snarling comment, Feferi slowed to a less joyful pace.

“I can sea you're a bit crabby, but he's our choreographer! We should accept him as he is, even if you don't like him!”

“He’s always drinking that... sugary sludge. I'd be surprised if he can think straight enough to choreograph with us.”

“Have a bit more faith! I'm shore he'll do just fine.”

Eridan frowned, knowing that any rebuttal would just increase Feferi’s insistence on being optimistic. In a way, he was quite glad she was there to oppose him. Though it seemed annoying, he knew that her positivity outweighed it. And, as he admitted silently, she was stunningly pretty. Eridan was still disgruntled, but he decided to let the topic drop. He changed the subject, pivoting to face his partner.

“How long do we have in the rink? Your lusus is going to be hungry if we're here too long.”

“Don't worry! I've got everything on... schedule...” Feferi trailed off. Her gaze was not on Eridan. Her jeweled obsidian eyes focused on a target far behind him. He knew she was easily distracted, but in an empty skating rink? That seemed a bit of a stretch. Eridan pushed his head and shoulders to face whatever Feferi was affixed upon.

The first thing that caught his gaze was the striking white face paint in the dark stands. It was as if some hollow-eyed phantom had made itself at home watching the trolls skate. But as Eridan started to pick up the finer details, tall, curved horns came into view, sharp as spears. Combine those with the unruly, wild mop of hair, and that was a sight more unsettling than the white phantom this troll could have been. This mysterious clown in the dark opened his distantly grinning mouth and uttered a single cry.

“Honk.”

Eridan jumped a foot. Feferi, giggling, addressed Gamzee.

“Gamsea! You're here!”

“I've been here for a while, Fef. I was wonderin’ if you’d notice.”

“Does… Sollux know you're here?”

Gamzee gave a brief shrug in response.

“Well, um… do you have the music?” inquired Feferi, determined to leave no loose ends.

“The wickedest slams,” assured Gamzee, baring each of his dagger-like teeth as the corners of his mouth curled upward. Eridan shuddered. He wasn’t used to conversations with Gamzee in person. He had talked with him before, but the frightening appearance of the troll’s paint-laden face wasn’t a factor over Trollian. Feferi was relatively unfazed.

“Great! Should we get started, then?”

“Show me your magic, fish dudes.”

Eridan longed to be as patient as his friend.

“There’s no such thing,” he muttered under his breath as he took Feferi by the hand, pulling her into a firm hold.

 

\--

 

Sollux settled down in a sizeable cushioned chair. The padding on the chair wasn’t any better than anything he had back at his hive. The fabric felt coarse, but not unpleasant enough to make him stir from his position. However, he wasn’t really concentrating on his seating conditions. For once, he was at least free to think about emotion. He sighed to himself, but he didn’t hear his own breath. What he heard was a whisper. Soft, faint, and annoying. The voices of the soon-to-be-dead, as usual. He didn’t mind the whispers. They made him feel at peace, similar to how a child would love hearing a bedtime story. Whatever those were.

He took a cautious sip from the ceramic mug he suspended in the air via telekinesis. The liquid wasn’t too hot, so he gently tipped the mug until he had a mouth full of bitter coffee. Deliberately, he swallowed, in no rush to be anywhere. He ran his tongue over his teeth. They felt obstructive, as usual. They always got in the way of both nourishment and speech. He almost hated them, just as he hated the voices he always heard playing over and over again in his divided mind.

Glancing out the window into the rink, he watched as three pairs of horns danced and swirled around the ice, framed by charcoal-colored tufts of hair. Every once in a while, a mulberry-colored purple swipe would taint the deep blacks and oranges. Both anger and apathy swirled in Sollux’s mind, sparked by the color of Eridan’s hair. Unwilling to deal with those emotions, he instead turned his attention to the other seadweller.

She was moving so smoothly. Sollux knew that skaters generally do move with a silky smoothness, but she seemed to fit it better somehow. How could he describe it? Elegant? Charming? His own contradictions worsened as he tried to puzzle out his feelings. However, both parts of his duality agreed that he wasn’t fit to make eyes at the heiress. He reminded himself that she had given him a healthy pay to stay until they finished skating. That would be the extent of his emotion.

As the other side of his mind ate away at the fact that he didn’t mean what he had just concluded, he slumped back in his chair. This was only the beginning. Once the skating season started, he would never have a dull day.

And right he was about that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready to get r-r-ripped?

    The deep rouge-colored walls of a cave had gone untouched all evening. If the walls could feel, they would have recognized the absence of interaction between them and their resident. They would have remembered that she was gone throughout half of every sweep during the day. It wouldn’t have been too much of a problem. She had always left to hunt in the evening. But when she returned, she would always stroke the rough carmine stone in careful patterns, spreading the blood of her last kill into works of art. Masterpieces. If the walls had known emotion, they would have dearly loved her artwork.

    But when Nepeta entered her hive, she brought no kill. No new fur rug to walk upon or wear on her shoulders. What she had brought home was instead aching feet and tired eyes. Her tail dragged on the ground, collecting the dust from the cave floor. She didn’t stop to feel the fur of one of her rugs. She seemed altogether to be devoid of her characteristic functions. The walls, of course, didn’t care. Walls can’t feel. But her lusus was quite concerned.

    Pounce de Leon pawed curiously around Nepeta, sniffing her out for problems. Even as Nepeta was riding her back to her hive, the troll was unusually unenthusiastic. Nepeta ignored her lusus, just intent on getting into her recuperacoon and succumb to the siren song of a good night’s sleep. Pounce, however, would not stand for this. She thrust her head under Nepeta’s arm, demanding attention and explanation. Nepeta smiled weakly.

    “Sorry, Pounce. I can’t play with you tonight. My feet are too sore from all that skating.” Pounce’s whiskers twitched in understanding. Of course. Skating always left Nepeta exhausted. The troll-sized cat wandered off into the corner of the cave, making the decision to let Nepeta rest. And rest she did. Daintily lowering herself into the slime inside her recuperacoon, she relaxed in the warm embrace enveloping her body. What a day it had been. Skating all afternoon. Being drilled again and again by her choreographer. As she lay there enveloped in slime, she recalled vividly what Vriska had instructed her to do.

    “All right, you two have great chemistry, I’ll give you that,” Vriska had told Nepeta and Equius.

    “What about… everything else?” Equius had questioned.

    “Well, if I had to make a list…” Both of the students braced for the impact of Vriska’s next words. “Your strides don’t match, you’re always off beat, and you don’t go the same speed. Equius, your communication skills need work and your rhythm and balance are terrible. Nepeta, you need to extend your motions and build your strength.”

    “Strength?” both the students inquired, puzzled. Nepeta had always considered herself strong, though more in the aspect of hunting than Equius was.

    “Unless I said something different, yes. Strength. You’re a runner, aren’t you, Nepeta?”

    “Um, yeah… did Equius tell you?”

    “He didn’t need to. You’re strong entering a lift, but once you’re up there, you turn into a limp grub. Your legs and arms are fine, but there’s no way you’ll survive in the next competition with your core muscles like this.” Nepeta’s brow furrowed in concern.

    “Well, what do we do? Is it pawsible at all fur me to get strong enough before the furst competition?”

    “Normally, no. But you’re lucky this time. You could have a personal trainer by tomorrow.” Nepeta tilted her head quizzically.

    “Really? Who?”

    “She might be referring to me,” interjected Equius.

    “Bingo.”

    “Equius… as my purrsonal trainer?” Nepeta’s speech slowed, tail rigid and unmoving. Both of the highblooded trolls waited for Nepeta to give a hint as to whether she was excited or unhappy. But by something in her posture, maybe the way she locked her knees, Equius figured it out before she gave the obvious sign of speaking her feelings.

    “That’s… purrfect! We can spend our time together and have fun getting strong and visit each other and he can show me his robots!” By the time she had finished this sentence, she was hopping up and down, almost in danger of slipping.

    “Nepeta, I think you’re seriously overestimating how fun exercise is,” commented Vriska.

    “Let her have her moment,” said Equius, motioning for Vriska to stop talking. Nepeta continued her enthusiastic spell.

    “It’ll be so much fun with you! I can’t wait!”

    At the memory of this moment, Nepeta stirred in her recuperacoon, chirping in delight. A smile danced across her face as she thought of all the fun she would have in the morning.

 

\--

 

    Equius woke to the sound of shattering glass.

    He stood up in his recuperacoon, slime dripping off his muscles. Something was off. Arthour never dropped his tray of lusus milk. The only glass that ever shattered in this hive was the milk glasses that met their fate at Equius’ own hand. Something had to be happening outside the room. Not taking the time to shower the slime off, Equius burst out of the door of his respiteblock.

    Arthour was, to Equius’ relief, not injured. But there was, however, an intruder.

    The scene was almost like a painting, each participant frozen in action. Arthour was standing there with his tray ever so shakily held high. One of the glasses was absent from the tray. Rather, it was on the ground in more pieces than it had begun in, milk spreading slowly across the floor. And the perpetrator, or rather, _purr_ petrator, was standing right by the crime scene, her tail puffy in surprise. She glanced with dilated eyes towards the owner of the hive.

    “Sorry, Equius!” she squeaked. “I don’t know what came ofurr me! I just wanted to touch the shiny glass!” For several seconds, both trolls didn’t speak. But then, in a glorious twist of fate, Equius smiled, showing every cracked tooth in his mouth.

    “That’s fine. Arthour cleans up well.”

    Nepeta, now fully recovered from her initial shock, softened into complete and utter excitement. Equius knew that he was in trouble once he saw his friend’s catlike smile begin to spread across her face.

    “So when are we gonna start?” she asked excitedly, making rapid motions with her tail. “Can I see where you build robots? Where does your lusus get all that milk? How often does he clean? Oh, I really wanna see your respiteblock! What’s it like? Lemme see!” With each imploring question, she stepped the slightest bit closer to the door to Equius’ respiteblock. He, with a start, began to recall the things that he didn’t want Nepeta to see. _The musclebeast posters!_ He began shifting in his position a little, moving to prevent his insistent friend from passing him.

    “Nepeta, I don’t think…”

    “Don’t think what?”

    “I, uh…” Equius began fumbling for words, sweat beginning to make its moist path down towards the ground. He had to think of something quick, before she somehow nosed her way past him.

    “The sopor slime. I need… to wash it off.” He wasn’t lying. Traces of green slime marked every bit of his body, accumulating in globs at joints and dripping off his long hair.

    “Do you need a towel? I can grab you one right now. They’re everywhere!”

    “No, no! I’m fine, I just…” Equius inched towards his door, grasping at it with his massive hands. “... I have towels in… here…” The door was embedded in the wall, nesting snugly in a door-sized nook that Equius had created by his quick exit.

    “Can I come in?” Nepeta begged.

    “I… would appreciate a bit of privacy for a few moments,” Equius rumbled, yanking the door free of both the wall and its hinges.

    “Purrivacy. Right. I’ll wait!” Success. Equius balanced the door in its former frame, hoping with all his strength that it would stay upright during the flurry that was certain to follow.

    With all the care and stealth of a charging musclebeast, he threw himself at the wall, grasping at its decorations desperately. Perhaps it was the exercise, or possibly the sheer embarrassment Equius felt on almost revealing his deeper interests, but the room was sprinkled in a fairly even layer of sweat before long. He heard a few wires sizzle with electricity as some of the exposed robotic parts came in contact with the salty fluid, but that wasn’t what was on his mind right then. He just had to hide everything before Nepeta’s innocence was destroyed.

Every single one of the numerous portraits whisked off the walls, glistening muscles and strong imagery flying through the room like falling leaves. Equius heard a tear as he ripped one down, and he came to more of a canter to examine the damage on the poster. It wasn’t the most grievous of damage, but that one tear in the fabric of the artwork’s overinflated reality cautioned Equius to be more careful. More slowly this time, he succeeded in removing the last poster from the wall. He hurriedly glanced around in an attempt to find a suitable hiding place for these precious yet M-rated artifacts. Settling for a pile of metal limbs, he stuffed the papers underneath them, more concerned about speed than preservation.

“You’re making a lot of noise in there! Are you hiding something?” called a voice from the other side of the poorly reconstructed door. She was onto him!

“No, I have nothing to hide! I’m simply… having trouble finding a towel in here!” He heard an unconvinced giggle from the direction of the door. This, of course, was entirely untrue. Towels lay strewn about as if his respiteblock was some sort of towel factory. He stooped down and snatched a towel off the floor, rubbing his great, sweaty head vigorously. As he was passing the coarse fibers of the well-worn towel across his arms, he came to the realization that he would have to hide the towels as well. If Nepeta saw that he had no trouble finding a towel, she might start looking! Equius exhaled through his nose with exasperation. The price he had to pay to be a good moirail!

On the other side of the door, Nepeta was very aware that Equius wasn’t simply finding towels. Nothing made him move that fast. She could hear it in the thunderous footfalls echoing from his room. The thought made her smile. Tucking her slight hands into the long, enveloping sleeves of her jacket, she waited patiently. She was incredibly curious as to what he was hiding, but she wouldn’t make too much of an effort to find out. Still, she would keep an eye out.

Twenty or so paces away from her, Pounce de Leon pawed around Arthour, rubbing her sides and tail on him like cats do. Arthour, like the saint he was, bore this with cautious acceptance. Stiffening on his four equine legs, he held his tray up high to keep it from the inquisitive muzzle of the giant double-mouthed cat. The movement of the tray, however, only made Pounce more curious. She stretched her neck up to try and peer at what sat upon the tray. As delicately as she could, Pounce placed a paw upon it. She probably didn’t put much pressure on it, as Nepeta knew, but Arthour wasn’t so accustomed to cat behavior. He jumped, retracting his arm and releasing the tray and milk glasses. They crashed to the ground with twin cacophonies, part clashing metal and part shattering glass.

The seconds following would have been silent if Nepeta hadn’t chirped out a giggle. As Arthour hurried down a flight of stairs in an attempt to gather cleaning supplies and Pounce turned quizzically to Nepeta, a cluster of thudding footsteps approached Equius’ door. The steps halted for a moment as the troll behind it contemplated what he would do with the door. He knew that the door only swung out, so pulling it in upon himself wasn’t an option. Pushing it out wasn’t either. Nepeta might be on the other side. After puzzling it out for a few seconds, Equius finally arrived at the conclusion that he would have to communicate.

“Um, Nepeta?” he gingerly called.

“Purresent!” replied Nepeta.

“You can come in now.”

“Okay!” Equius wiped his brow with a towel he had left over from the last ordeal. Phew. His respiteblock had just undergone a moirail-proof makeover that should have been done in hours. Silently, he commended himself for having the strength to do so.

Nepeta grasped the doorknob, feeling its metallic coldness. Pulling the door forward and jumping out of the way, she dodged its submission to gravity. For the first time, she was free to explore her best friend’s living space! Taking everything in, she stepped through the now-vacated portal slowly and deliberately. The room wasn’t as big as she had imagined, being about the size of her own. But the contents were quite intriguing in her opinion. The first thing she noticed was the pile of robots and robot parts located squarely in the middle of the back wall. It was hard to miss, as it was taking up a lot of the room. A basic computer sat on a desk to the right, fairly nondescript as computers went.

Nepeta gaped at all these components, despite being commonplace among trolls of Equius’ caste. But the thing she was drawn to the most was the sizeable modulated window on the leftmost wall. She put her hands up to the glass, gazing down on the chasm below. It was so high up! Not even her cave was that high in the cliffs. Hands still on the window, she turned her head to look at Equius, her hair swishing cutely to frame her excited expression.

“Good view?” Equius asked, smiling at his friend’s reaction.

“Is it efurr!” Scanning up the cliff, Nepeta’s gaze fixated upon the target in front of her. It was another hive, towering high on the opposite cliff. It was incredibly similar to Equius’, as she had found on her way up to the hive. She marveled at the architecture almost as she marveled at Equius’ when she had seen it for the first time. “Is that where Vwhiskers lives?” she asked.

“Yes. Her lusus lives in the ravine.”

Nepeta, getting distracted by all the new sights to see, said no more on the topic. “How many robots have you _made?_ ” she quickly inquired, padding over to investigate the pile of mechanical components.

“I lost count a long time ago,” Equius replied.

Nepeta mischievously grinned. “I can’t imagine what your room looked like befur you cleaned it!”

Equius frowned. “...What?”

“When you were cleaning before! You know, when you made me wait to come in?”

“Oh… yeah…”

“You missed this whole pile of arms and legs!” Nepeta continued, picking one up and feeling its weight in her arms.

“Don’t touch those,” Equius hurriedly commanded, being all too aware of what lay underneath that particular pile. Nepeta understood that he wasn’t making a joke, and so tossed the metal arm back in the pile. The weight reminded her of the reason she had come in the first place.

“Oh!” Nepeta exclaimed in her sudden remembrance. “Are you gonna show me how to get stronger? I can't wait to see how you do it!”

The other troll was prepared for this question, however uncharacteristically. This was partially because Vriska had encouraged him. But mostly because strength was the sole occupant of his thoughts anyway. “I'm glad you asked,” he said, showing multiple fractured teeth as he smiled at his new student.

 

\--

 

As she strutted from her hive, a certain spiderlike troll chuckled to herself. She had given those two so much more confidence than they deserved. Vriska almost found it funny. No, she definitely found it funny.

Yes, they were talented. Yes, they worked well together. But to refine their skills in such a narrow time frame? It would take a miracle. Of course, Vriska knew too much about miracles. Her last discussion with her main rival had gone so far off track into the topic of miraculous happenings, she barely accomplished her purpose.

But luckily, she did.

She knew exactly who else was competing in the pair skate event.

The sea breeze stirred her hair into its breezy currents. She knew the salt wouldn't wash out anytime soon, but she figured it would be worth it. On the horizon, a familiar dark, spiky shape began to increase in clarity. The mast. The ropes. The polished woodwork on the deck, glinting like deep cobalt marble.

It was good to see the old girl after so long. It all felt too familiar to Vriska, memories of her adventures on the high seas flooding her vision. And she was going to sail once more!

Because Vriska had a bone to pick with an old kismesis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shenanigans. This time with a bunch of fish. A bunch of fish and a pirate.

Despite there being very few sailors on Alternia, two of the biggest ships on the planet were about to meet each other. The first was magnificent. It was tall, well-kept, and despite its considerable age was still shining a bright blue as it always had. Its soft, pliable sails cradled the wind with a distinctive firmness. As it created a cresting wake in the sea behind it, the boat sped smoothly toward the other ship.

But that other ship was not moving at all. In fact, it was split in two, landlocked on a tiny, barren island. Its splintered wood and severed ropes had the same color uniformity as its intact counterpart, but in a deep teal. However, this ship could be considered almost as important as the other. Because, in its seemingly barren wreckage, a royal blooded troll took residence. And he had made it fit for a prince.

Eridan was mildly alarmed at the great shadow that was cast suddenly on his hive. In a normal situation, nothing would have emerged out of the morning mist. He shot up from his chair to investigate it. Walking briskly toward a window, he tossed his scarf over his shoulder to secure it in place. This action combined with the soft swishing of his deep violet cape reassured him. He was authority. Surely, he would confront whatever was out there with confidence.

But when he cast his dark eyes upon the shadowy shape outside his window, he knew he would have to fight to keep that dignity.

He couldn’t see it very well, as he had not donned his glasses yet, but there was no mistaking the great spined monstrosity seventy or so yards away from the sand bank. Vriska’s ship was identifiable even through unfocused eyes. Eridan cursed. He was either in serious trouble or had something she wanted. Or both.

Eridan figured she must already be on her way to shore. His vision wasn’t quite sharp enough to tell apart a rowboat from the water, but he knew Vriska well enough. She never waited for anybody. As quickly as he could, Eridan trotted over to a small end table where his glasses lay, awaiting usage. He scooped them up with a hurried hand, holding them up to his eyes to check for imperfections. He found several. The scarf he was wearing served as an excellent cloth for cleaning lenses, so that was what he used to remove the smudges on the glass. Then, taking care not to slip on the stairs, Eridan wasted no time in running to meet Vriska before she met him.

Meanwhile, the other troll was in her rowboat, churning the water below her between condescending chuckles. Unlike the prince, Vriska had been born with perfect vision. In fact, her vision was more than perfect. So perfect that it surpassed an average troll’s vision eightfold. So, naturally, she had seen the entire progression of Eridan’s expressions as he took in the scene she had created. It felt almost nostalgic, toying with him. He always gave such rewarding reactions to her showmanship. This wasn’t the best reaction she had received, but she was still proud of how she timed her entrance to capture the morning light. She would have to save that idea for future use.

After she dismounted onto the silky sand, she began to recall how she used to keep track of the ways Eridan would try to make it look like he was expecting her. Whether it was a personal visit or an impersonal raid, he would always do something to exaggerate his demeanor. To try and make his countenance more intimidating. It never worked. Vriska was curious to see if that stuck-up highblood still clung to that particular quirk.

He did.

When Vriska let herself in, Eridan was perching on a plush lounge chair, legs crossed awkwardly. His right hand grasped his left knee, while his left hand fingered a long white wand. He rolled it around in his fingers, pretending to casually examine it. His lips were slightly pursed, eyebrows hanging low. All in all, he looked really stupid.

“It’s been a while, fish lips,” crooned Vriska, assuming an assertive pose.

“Not long enough,” Eridan countered, taking care not to glance at his guest.

Vriska took a few steps forward, speaking as she walked for dramatic effect. “Figured I should catch up, with how long it’s been. How’s Feferi? I assume you’re taking care of her.” She obviously didn’t care about Feferi.

Eridan didn’t look up from scrutinizing his wand. “I don’t need to. She’s not why you came, though.”

“What do you know about why I came?” Vriska lowered her voice here, beginning to circle around his chair in even, measured strides.

“What do you want, Vriska?” Eridan would waste no time with idle chatter. He finally confronted the other troll, making eye contact and standing up to meet her eyes.

“I just wanted to hear you say my name in that cute little accent of yours,” bantered Vriska, intent on wasting more time.

“Is this about skating? I assume you want me to get you a spot in the pair skating finals. I didn’t know you were the pair skating type, Vriska. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I only skate free,” stated Vriska, as if she didn’t say that every time skating was brought up. “But you were right about skating. I need a favor from you.”

“As I expected. Let’s get this over with.”

“Did Gamzee tell you who your competitors are?”

“No, he didn’t say much. His teaching techniques are… unique. And by unique, I mean he’s a spongedead nookstain. He picked me up, Vriska! He threw me across the rink like an empty bottle of his ‘sweet elixir’ or whatever. May as well have thrown me in the ocean, like most landdwellers do with their empty bottles. Insipid dirtmunchers.”

“Um, we’re talking about me here, not the clown.”

“Isn’t that all you talk about?”

“Let me finish! So you don’t know who you’re competing with, right?”

“Whatever. No.”

“Okay. I’ll just spoil it for you right now. I’m choreographing for one of your competing pairs.”

“So? Do you actually care about them at all? I’m assuming you want me to take it easy on them.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. This is still about me.”

“Oh. Great.”

“Scratch entrusted me with those two thinkpanless urchins. I’m already in trouble with him. If I don’t prove myself, I could be out of a job.”

“Wait, why are you in trouble with Scratch?”

Vriska hesitated, but decided to give it away in this situation. After all, it would be really inconvenient if she couldn’t get Eridan to agree with her.

She reached into the inside of her jacket, caressing the inner pocket that a certain seamstress cohort had sewn on just for a dramatic moment such as this. Hand closing on a round, smooth object, she brought it into the light. Its seamless white surface glinted in the low morning sunlight. Eridan’s fins flexed a bit in knowledge of what the object was. He had seen it before, in Doc Scratch’s office.

“I’m usually not a compulsive thief,” Vriska explained, “But I’d heard rumors… Well anyway, I don’t know if he noticed or knows if I have it. But if I mess up my job, he’d have a great reason to fire me.”

“Can’t you just return it?”

“Haha. No way I’m gonna do that.”

“So you want me to score worse than whoever you’re over. Am I right about that?”

“Right.”

Eridan pursed his lips and turned his eyes to the corner of his vision in a second of consideration. “Nope. Won’t do it.”

Vriska frowned. “Dude. I just gave you my best sob story. I even brought the cue ball!”

“I work for Scratch too! I want to keep this job. Fef loves it.”

“Don’t start on your Feferi feelings.”

“I want to be there for her! You wouldn’t understand, you don’t care about anyone else.”

“Ugh. You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Not as unbelievable as you.”

“Fine. You don’t wanna help me, I’ll do it myself.”

“Works for me. Why don’t you get that monstrosity of a ship off of my front lawnring?”

“Oh really? I was planning on leaving this island some other way. What a shame, I’ll have to obey His Royal Grubsucker’s command.” She mocked a curtsy in his direction. With a dignified, condescending flair, Vriska tossed her hair as she turned to leave.

“Pretentious pustule,” muttered Eridan as she whisked out the door. It really was a shame she was so attractive, he thought. He couldn’t hate her enough to step out of the range of kismessitude. But those days were behind him. In the future, he might need her powers or vision, but he would never need her blackrom.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, knocking his glasses to the floor. He winced a bit at the potential damage to his lenses, but made no effort otherwise to retrieve them. At this point, all he wanted was to be back on the ice. Just skating, not worrying about their performance. And not by himself. With Feferi. He inhaled briefly, taking in the salty, water-saturated air. If only there was a way to enjoy something without working for it.

 

\--

 

Shadows didn’t appear often above Feferi’s hive. Large lusii usually knew not to swim near the tentacles of the monstrous Gl’bgolyb. But a ship passing overhead cast quite the large shadow onto the seafloor. The cuttlefish in Feferi’s respiteblock scattered, jetting themselves into closed-off spaces. A bright green one sped past the crown of her head, churning the water near her horns just enough to snap her out of a reverie.

Feferi’s hair billowed around her face when she glanced around the room, trying to discern the source of the commotion. Taking note this strange shadow, she mimicked the cuttlefish’s movements to propel herself out her hive window. Open ocean was all that was in front of her. But above? Through a screen of blue-tinted seawater, the shape of an artificially-made hull showed clear in Feferi’s vision. One of Eridan’s ships? No, it was land bound. Perhaps it was Vriska’s, she thought. Grinning at the notion, she decided to make her way up to meet her moirail.

Of course, she didn’t need to swim the whole way. She clicked her tongue twice, creating two twin sharp sounds that carried all the way to her respiteblock. Before long, a ribbon-adorned aquatic hoofbeast answered the call. With its powerful finned tail, it beat the water behind it to swim towards Feferi. She grasped the reins with a ring-adorned hand. Mounting the gentle beast, she secured herself tightly on its back. With a flick of the reins, she was off to the surface.

The prince was cautiously peering out the window when his skating partner began to emerge from the sea. So now, instead of tentatively watching for Vriska to leave, he perked up a bit. A familiar face with the intention of being friendly! It was oddly refreshing, even after his single encounter with Vriska.

Feferi smiled when Eridan burst out the door. His actions so mismatched his expression, it was humorous. He rushed out to meet her like an excited young barkbeast, yet his expression was as stern as ever. It made her wonder a bit at what he really felt. But this thought, she decided, was better left for later.

“Was that Vriska?” she chirped in a singsong voice.

“I regret to say that it was,” called Eridan, more monotone in this expression. Feferi deepened her grin.

“Are you in a kismesis again?” She gasped. “Are you seaing each other now?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Too late! I ship it! It’s not up for debait!”

He cocked his head a bit to the side. “You… ship it?”

“You mean you don’t know what shipping is?”

“Is this more landdweller slang?”

“No! Well, yes, but it’s a word for something that didn’t have a name before!”

Eridan put on an unimpressed expression. “Uh-huh…”

“It means to really like a relationship between two people. Also, it’s a magnifishent fish pun!”

“Well, whatever. We are NOT getting back together. She just wanted to make sure we weren’t competing against the pair she’s choreographing for.”

“Did you agree?”

Eridan looked at her quizzically. “Are you off your swaychair? No! We’re, like, the grubbing dream team, remember? We’ll crush them!”

“Will that make you feel better?” Softly inquired Feferi, playing the role of the voice of reason once again.

“Lumpsquirting right it will. Vriska will hurt for it, and so will her two… peons.”

She hesitated a bit, processing what he wanted. But after a moment of contemplation, she placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Well, if they’re going down, I’ll help you pin them to the seafloor!”

Ignoring the delicate touch of his beautiful friend’s hand as best as he could, Eridan nodded. “Let’s do it together, Fef.”

“That’s pretty sappy, but okay!”

“When can we practice next? I feel like I just want to get on the ice again.”

“Well…” Feferi winced a bit, sorry to see the fire in his eyes inevitably extinguish. “The rink is closed today. Maintenance and all.”

“Hmph.” Eridan slumped a little. “What did we do to that ice? Are they just so shocked at finding actual talent they wanted to clean it up?”

“Don’t be like that, now. It’s their monthly routine. Everything gets checked, and if it all appiers to be running swimmingly, we get to go back the next day.”

“Can’t they make an exception?”

“Well, we can visit a different rink, but then you’d have to deal with the landdwellers’ second best.”

“I’d rather cull myself.”

“Exactly.”

“So what do we do? Sit around and pretend we’re skating?”

“We cod… practice our skating underwater.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I know.” The ocean was the only participant in the conversation for several seconds. It gently crept its way up and down the sand, a smooth afterthought to the slightly threatening breakers far offshore. Feferi would have been content to listen to it for hours, just matching her breaths with the pace of the waves. However, she was well aware that her friend was impatient. She scanned her brain for ideas to help his attitude.

There was a faint whoosh in the distance, and both trolls heeded it. No unusual sound for a heartbeat. Then, another practically identical noise, this time much louder. Feferi deduced that the source was behind them, obscured from view by Eridan’s hive. Another repeated noise, the displacement of air incredibly apparent at this distance.

All Eridan saw in that moment was a flurry of massive feathers on massive wings. An enormous spleenfowl lusus, gliding directly over his hive! His hair ruffled in the draft the bird created. At once, he could see every detail on that creature. Every teal-flecked feather. Those brainless, empty eyes. Every element of it was begging to be drenched in its own blood. He could just imagine the thrill of hunting such a beast!

Feferi had already pulled a gilded trident from her strife specibus. “Whale, looks like you’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking!” She didn’t need a reply. Eridan’s rifle was in his hands and sparks were in his eyes. “Let’s go!” she cried, sending him and herself to fight their problems away.

 

\--

 

Every evening, Tavros drove the Zamboni.

It was just a fact in his life. He wasn’t talented enough to skate in the big leagues. He didn’t have any sort of training in an occupation. And on top of that, all of his friends were skating for the entire planet of Alternia. Granted, it wasn’t a very populous planet. Skating usually was second fiddle to volleyball as well. But none of that really mattered to the lowblood. This was the only way he could feel important in the slightest.

Not that he minded at all. The low rumble of the machinery below him felt soothing. If he ever lost his ability to communicate with animals, he would turn to the mechanical world. But it’s a job. And eventually, every job has to be performed.

Tavros sat at the head of the machine, absentmindedly guiding it around the perimeter of the rink. He took the time to think. To ponder his purpose in this icy sport. To come to terms with his longing to be more involved, but also his unwillingness to do so. But that thinking would have to wait. There was another troll by the sidelines, calling his name. She peeked over her pointed red glasses, an accessory that mirrored her triangular horns well.

“Hey! Tav! Get over here, you’ve got a message!”

“A… message?” He repeated her last word, shutting off the machine to hear her better.

“Yeah, it’s from your girlfriend! Come closer so I don’t have to yell!”

“Um, okay!” He staggered out onto the ice, feet slipping at every step as he attempted to make his way the entire length across.

“Use! The Zamboni!” Terezi cried, unwilling to watch him slide much more. It took a few minutes, but it is to be assured that Tavros made his way to Terezi’s side.

“What’s the, uh, story?” he asked after the ordeal.

“I found Vriska just now. She ran into me on the street. Said she had to see you.”

“Is she… coming? Now?”

“Relax, I saved you from her. I offered to give her proposition in her place.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, she wants you to sabotage the rink or something. Apparently she doesn’t like Eridan and Feferi’s chances of winning.” Tavros knew exactly what she meant.

“I, uh… don’t know if I can do that,” he squeaked. “If I do, I might lose my job…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. She’s got a lot of irons in the fire. She’ll totally forget about it.”

“Right… you’re right.”

“I’m just surprised she didn’t say anything about Gamzee. He’s her real competitor, after all.” Tavros was suddenly interested.

“Gamzee’s skating this season too?”

“Psh. That guy will never retire. He’s raking in so many boondollars right now.” He was unusually thrilled about this prospect. It would be an understatement to say that he admired the highblooded skater.

“Do you think he’ll win again this season?”

“Eh. At this point, it’s hard to tell. I only care about the actual performance anyway.” There was an awkward silence for a moment, mostly due to Tavros’ lack of general social skill.

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of irons myself,” said Terezi, breaking the silence. “Just stopped by to clear Vris’ thing with you.”

“Okay. Take care, Terezi.”

“You too.”

Back to the daily grind for Tavros. Someday, he thought, he would be out there. Not just maintaining the ice. Not just becoming a link in a complex construct. No, he would be out there someday. Someday when confidence was not such a rare commodity. He would skate one day.

Just not anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a notice: In this AU, the presence of sports overrides the presence of FLARPing. In this universe, Vriska never started off a string of disastrous events, causing everyone's life to be miserable. As a result, there aren't really very many disabilities. Terezi can see, Tavros has working legs, and Aradia will be alive. All these needed to happen in order for their professions to be possible in the future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months later, and Equius and Nepeta have their first program memorized. But what happens in practice?

It had been three Alternian months since the beginning of the season, and this was the first time Vriska had been late to practice.

She strode briskly into the building, adjusting her glasses and tucking her smooth hair behind her ear. She would never have broken into a run. She was much too prideful to show any sign of her own lack of time management. Preferring to maintain a controlled facade, she betrayed none of her racing thoughts on her face. Oh, and the thoughts she had at that moment! Most of them were related to stabbing, smashing, or otherwise maiming another troll, and all of those were trolls that had rejected her proposals. Simply, nobody was willing to help Vriska cheat her way into her manager’s favor.

She stormed onto the ice, blades scraping the surface a tad harder than usual. Her students were idling near a wall, appearing altogether too calm. Equius was absentmindedly dabbing at his forehead with a small washcloth, a stoic expression painting his face. Nepeta had brought her crimson husktop and set it on the top of the wall. She tapped away at the keys, tail swishing in cheerful activity. Much too cheerful for the mood Vriska was in.

“I hope you two remember any of the routine,” she grumbled. “You don’t seem particularly focused.” Both trolls turned to look at her, noting her presence for the first time that day.

“Pardon us, Vriska,” rumbled Equius. “We were waiting for you.”

“Really? I thought you were waiting for someone else,” she snapped.

“You always tell us not to be late,” Nepeta added. “Where were you? You don’t seem the purrcatstinating type.”

“I have a lot of irons in the fire!” she replied, louder than necessary. “I was visiting a lot of trolls today.”

“I don’t understand,” Nepeta said. “Why can’t you just use Trollian to talk to your furrends? That’s what it’s fur.”

Of course, Vriska knew why she couldn’t do that. Trollian was incredibly susceptible to the hacking types. She knew what Sollux could do with his uncanny talent. If he came across a sentence of her plan, he could reveal it all to Scratch without a second thought! But she couldn’t betray a word of what she had tried to carry out. Her pupils were too fair. Too far on the side of the rule-followers. They would protest to cheating. Mother Grub’s little royalty.

“It’s none of your business,” Vriska mumbled, unable to think of a half-decent excuse.

“Can’t argue with that,” Equius interjected. “Shall we run through our routine?”

“You people do that,” said Vriska sharply, gliding back a few steps to provide the trolls adequate skating space. “But this time, I wanna see some core strength! Hope you’ve been eating your grubsauce, Nepeta.” In reality, the feline troll had eaten no more grubsauce than usual. Instead, she had been practically nursed on lusus milk for the past months. She remembered poor Arthour, struggling to keep up with supplying two trolls at once with cream-saturated, protein-infused milk. That lusus needed help, she thought. But that didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was satisfying Vriska with a well-executed platter lift.

“Are you ready to impurress her?” she chirped to her partner.

“Yes, but don’t be disappointed if we fail.” Nepeta softened her expression.

“We’ll do it. We’ll do it togefur!”

“That pun is… quite a stretch.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Vriska tapped a button on a music player and the song began. It began like a distant thunderclap, deep and foreboding. A small number of frail string instruments sang a deliberate melody, building up to what would become a grander scale. The echo in the building somehow added to the atmosphere, although it did make it harder to follow. The rhythm was often lost in the sound’s countless rebounds, but at least it was better than an absence of music altogether.

Equius poised himself several paces away from his partner, holding his chin up as elegantly as he could. Freezing his limbs in place, he patiently waited for the music cue. Seconds of silence. Then, pounding drumbeats. When the deepest strings began their ebb and flow, he began counting beats. 

One. A breath in. Two. A breath out. Three. Equius swung his arm out and toward his chest. He allowed the momentum to carry his blades in a neat circle. Four. The rotation was complete, and he pushed off towards Nepeta.

Although she was facing away from him, she knew the exact moment to reach across her chest with both hands. Almost perfectly on beat, she felt Equius’ large fingers snake their way around her back and across her delicate, pointed hands. The next beat was the time designated for them to push off together, but Equius came in a bit late. He dragged behind her for several beats, but that was soon remedied by a sudden, drawn-out pause in the music. He guided her hands around her head, rotating her to face him. He was a little bit strong here, and she rotated a bit too far.

In hold, they breezed away in sweeping, synchronized movements. Then, the first jump in the program. Equius abandoned any attempts in speeding up, but Nepeta did not. This was not a mistake. The increased momentum enabled him to carefully take hold of her and fling her away in a gorgeous throw toe loop. Ecstatic at landing it so perfectly, Nepeta whirled her head to see Vriska’s reaction. To her dismay, the blueblood displayed no positive reaction.

One jump down, three more to go. As well as four lifts, two spins, a death spiral, and a step sequence. A bit disheartened at the lengths they would need to go to impress their tutor, both trolls continued their program.

The music was almost at its full volume, indicating for both skaters to begin counting between beats. Every one of the four beats they had been following was now to be replaced with three smaller ones. One, two, three. One, two, three. Swiftly, Nepeta eased forward in front of Equius. He took her by the waist with his right hand and by her hand with his left, each facing the outside of the rink. In this shadow position, they wove their feet in and out in graceful tracing steps. They swept in and out of this position, accelerating and decelerating artistically to create a beautiful contrast in their motions. They seemed almost like a steady breath. In. Out. One, two three. One, two three.

Their speed soon reached a suitable level to begin the next step. They each broke off from each other, creating a fair distance between them. On the cue of a certain swell in the music, both trolls launched into the air, rotating three times in a synchronized salchow. It was decently done, but Vriska still didn’t seem to care. She stood there, stone-faced and judgemental.

It was at this moment that Nepeta began to feel a bit off. She wondered if the grubloaf she had eaten that morning had turned. But she couldn’t focus on that. She had a program to finish, and plenty more jumps to land.

A combination spin was coming up next, and Equius was ready. He had always excelled in holding a position, even when factoring in balance and wind resistance. With his partner’s hand grasped in his, they pushed off in a circle beside each other. They inclined their hips and backs to create two parallel lines while rotating. Nepeta could feel his sweat flecking upon her, but she had gotten quite accustomed to the sensation and instead focused on her increasing muscle aches.

They curled up into their designated positions after several beats. Nepeta’s back was pressed against her partner’s stomach, and he had her hand quite firmly in front of her. He felt that she was significantly less enthusiastic, and he wondered what was the matter. Intertwined in a spinning figure, they kept this position until the time came to ease out of it. Equius stood up straight, guiding his partner’s hand to a more open position. At this point, neither of them cared about Vriska. Equius worried about Nepeta’s morale, and she worried about her health.

Then came the moment of truth. The famed and infamous platter lift. Nepeta, although unwilling, prepared herself for the transition by extending one leg and tucking her tail up and under. She gave a small hop, assisting her partner in lifting her body into the air. Then, she felt something in her core muscles. A jarring contraction. A painful, stabbing cramp.

Equius’ arms never faltered in a lift. When he felt Nepeta swaying above his head, he knew that there was something amiss on his partner’s end. He neglected to rotate in the platter lift position. He was so cautious about his partner that he didn’t care about his performance. Then, he heard her give a sharp squeak of pain.

Equius was prepared when Nepeta completely seized up. He halted the motion of his skates and caught her in her moment of intense pain. He quickly lowered her onto the bare ice, unsure of what to do.

“Vriska!” he called out to his coach, his voice cracking in surprise and slight panic. She did not answer, but instead hurried forward to investigate the state of the troll lying on the ice.

“Nepeta, where does it hurt?” demanded Vriska, shaking Nepeta’s arm in an attempt to get her attention. She responded by pushing her arms toward her curled stomach. She felt unable to speak. If she did, she feared it would come out as a high-pitched yelp.

Vriska hesitated for a few seconds, and then muttered “It’ll pass.”

“What? No! She’s hurt!” protested Equius, wildly gesticulating in his stress.

“What else are we going to do?!” Vriska snapped. “I don’t know any doctors nearby!”

“There has to be someone!” He was pacing back and forth, sweating bullets as he attempted to rack his brain for a solution. Unfortunately, stressful situations were not the kindest to the poor troll’s mind. “Healer. Doctor. Doc… Doc Scratch?”

Vriska laughed, but in a sort of cold-hearted bark. “Doc’s just part of his name. Besides, I’m not going to see him. No way.”

“He knows a lot more than we do!”

“No! We’re not going to our manager for a medical problem!”

“Are we just going to let her lie there? She might be injured!”

“Unless this keeps her from skating forever, this isn’t worth taking to Scratch.” Vriska was growing more insistent, but Equius matched it every time.

“It could!”

“We are not going! End of discussion.”

She wasn’t caving in. Time to play the highblood card. He stiffened a bit to amplify his already gigantic stature.

“As your superior, I order you to take us to Doc Scratch.”

“I don’t care about your place on the hemospectrum! If we go, I could lose my job. I would lose everything! Do you want that to happen? Do you want to skate without support? To lose the competition?”

“Do you want Nepeta to lose her life?!” Equius roared.

“Please…” Nepeta said in a tiny, constricted voice. All parties fell silent. Equius and Vriska whirled around to face her. “Something’s… wrong. Please… take me?”

“... Fine.” Vriska sharply turned away, flicking her hair behind her. “I’ll show you to his office. Then I’m out. Okay?”

Equius shouldered Nepeta as easily as he would a backpack. “Lead the way,” he commanded.

 

\--

 

It’s always nice to have visitors around the office.

Of course, this particular instance was out of necessity and not out of a simple desire to see me, but I’ll take the company whether the visitors are willing or not. These particular callers are and were completely loyal to me, which even now would be refreshing.

Ha. They’re lucky. They have an omniscient spherical manager to run their little programs. Most skaters in the galaxy don’t have such a luxury. If only that Vriska character was aware of how much power there exists embedded in my genetic code. Maybe she would have been a bit more grateful.

Perhaps she wouldn’t have stolen from me.

I wasn’t too worried about that. Vriska’s mental abilities were… underused then, at the very least. She would never have figured out how to use the cue ball. My supreme intellect and powers of deduction could put that together easily.

I would say I have blathered on for much too long, but I measured out my rambling beforehand to give a concise yet sufficient few paragraphs for my readers to best judge my character. I’d say the pacing is slightly on the swift side, but we wouldn’t want to trudge through a lengthy chapter, now would we? Ah, now for our unfortunate friends to arrive at my office.

Of course, I already knew precisely when they would exit the elevator on the fourth floor. However, I had to pretend to be surprised when Equius burst through the door of room thirteen. It added effect, despite the effort it took due to my lack of a physical face.

“Ah! If it isn’t Equius and Nepeta, my star skaters!” I said to them with a gentlemanly flair. “Is Nepeta all right? Her limpness intrigues me.”

“We don’t know what happened. She says it hurts around her stomach,” said Equius in that panicky tone of his.

“Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. You gave her milk, didn’t you?” I watched the wheels spin in his head as he attempted to comprehend my intellect compared to his.

“I, uh… think she drank Arthour’s milk… every day?”

“Well, there’s your problem, young man. Never encourage an olive blood to ingest excessive amounts of lactose. They cannot digest it as well as others on the hemospectrum. Over time it begins to ferment in the stomach, and by then--” I cut myself off at that point. I had predicted that Equius had lost interest in my scientific explanations. In addition, Vriska was just slipping out of the doorway and trotting back to the elevator.

“Vriska!” I called to her, stern and powerful like the effective manager I am. I predicted her wincing at the sound of her name, then dragging her feet as she sulked back to my office.

“Yes, Mr. Scratch?”

“Stay here awhile. I will see to you when I am finished with my unhealthy patient.” She grunted moodily in response. I gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, as dignified as I always have been. She sulked over and sunk down. I thought I caught a bit of concern for Nepeta in her defective eight-pupiled eye. She would never have admitted it. But I know. She’s a living troll, after all.

“Is there something I can give her? A plant? Can olive bloods eat plants?” My goodness, this man was out of sorts. I would have to give her a dud just to soothe him. A placebo, if you will.

“Here, Nepeta.” I knelt down by her side, procuring a bite-sized piece of ginger root from my inner coat pocket. “Chew on this and it’ll be over in a moment.” Oh, and don’t ask why I have ginger in my pocket. The answer would be unfathomable to any mortal.

Nepeta nodded and accepted the herb. She began softly gnawing on it. It would have been adorable if I cared. Which I didn’t. The ginger was, in reality, not going to have any effect on her health. Simply waiting for a few minutes would clear it up very well. This I know because of my extensive knowledge and deductive powers.

“Now, then,” I said jubilantly, clapping my hands together like an authoritative figure would, “If you’ll just take your feline friend and leave Vriska and I to chat, that would be lovely.”

“Yes, sir.” Shaking considerably, Equius hoisted his partner into his arms. She submitted like a little rag doll, still chewing on the ginger she had clutched in her hands. It was equal parts cute and pathetic. No, scratch that. Mostly pathetic. Both trolls vacated the room, leaving me to deal with the thief.

“So, Vriska,” I said, sinking into the chair behind my polished cherry desk. “Are you enjoying your time with my useless little desk toy?” It was admittedly amusing to watch her guilty face contract to seem less guilty.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Good one. No, never mind. It was quite awful, considering you weren’t telling a joke.”

“Look, do you want it back?”

“Not unless you’re finished.” I reclined a bit, stretching my feet out under my desk. Never on top of the desk. That position is for ungentlemanly internmen.

She squinted, trying to puzzle out my meaning. “And what if I’m not?”

“Then you’ll spend years of your life trying to decide whether or not you’re finished.”

“What do you want from me?”

“No sense in beating around the bush, then. I want you to return the ball to me.”

“But I’m not finished.”

“Finished with what, exactly?” She was growing much more frustrated. This was an entertaining game.

“I… want to keep it for a little longer.”  
“Why is that?”

“Do you need to know?”

“As your manager, I have the right to know.”

“Fine. I think there’s something deeper about this ball.”

“You  _ think _ there’s something?”

“No. Well… yes.”

“I don’t believe thinking is quite enough, Vriska.” I leaned forward in my chair. This was another businesslike pose, arms resting poised atop my desk. “I would politely request that you return what you have unlawfully stolen.”

“But it’s just as you said, Mr. Scratch. I’m not finished.”

“Then I’ll give you one chance before you’re finished.” Her eyes widened. The heightened stakes intimidated her. “If you or your students win the upcoming championship, the prize money goes to me. Then you may consider the ball purchased from me.”

“That’s a crazy offer.”

“It’s that, the ball, or a pink slip.” The wheels in her head were really spinning.

“You drive a hard bargain, Scratch. But it’s a deal.” What a terrible decision, thoroughly foreseen by me.

“Excellent. I expect great things from you, Vriska. Don’t disappoint me.”

“That I can’t guarantee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doc Scratch has access to Earth materials (e.g. the cherry desk and the ginger) despite Earth apparently never existing due to the absence of a Sgrub game. If you're looking for a clear explanation, too bad. He just has Earth stuff. Deal with it.
> 
> Some sequences stolen from this program: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PByi6Ew5a2Y


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half is a coffee shop AU, the second is skating shenanigans. What more could you ask for?

Aradia gazed at the grub cappuccino she was handing to a yellow blooded customer. The grubsauce was swirling lazily in greenish streaks among the milky bubbles. It almost reminded her of death, or at least it reminded the voices in her head of their own deaths. She had just begun her shift at the downtown coffee shop and she was already beginning to think about death. At least she didn’t fear it like trolls of higher castes seemed to. She pondered how incredibly uncomfortable it would be to fear death and be in her situation.

“Thank you,” said the yellow blood.

“Come again soon,” Aradia said in return, reciting her practiced line with perfect inflection. She relaxed her shoulders and tucked her hair behind her right horn. Some of it draped back down to her face, tracing the curve of the horn as it dropped limply down. She imagined the beginning of the first skating competition. The babble in the coffee shop seemed almost like the babble of the eager spectators to the sport. She would be grasping a microphone, closely tracking the skaters’ movements. She would use her own words to enhance the sport, providing informative and cheery commentary to the viewers. Sounding more alive than ever before, Aradia would genuinely be enjoying her job. She’d be recognized for her dynamic voice. A welcome change from cheap customer service, where her talents would be met with little to no reaction.

The pleasant tinkle of a bell echoed in the still air, and it was not part of Aradia’s daydream.

A customer had arrived.

A very important customer.

One by one, each troll in the shop noticed the visitor. Eyes widened. Husktops were forgotten. The idle chatter in the room completely ceased. Everybody turned, stunned, to take in the glittering sight of Feferi Peixes.

Feferi, having just strode into a convenient coffee shop, didn’t quite expect the reaction she received, probably due to how rarely she actually entered a building on land. She was indeed aware of the Alternian custom to stand up when royalty enters a building, but she hadn’t understood how heavy it felt to be the person they were standing for.

As she walked to the counter, she glanced around at the customers’ faces, all incredulous and terrified at the same time. Everybody was rigid on their feet, standing for their lives. Why was such an important figure in the shop? Who had she come to cull? What was she up to? Feferi could see all the questions in their eyes. She took several slow steps to the counter, every troll watching her for any signs of distaste.

Even Aradia was spooked by the palpable silence and Feferi’s presence. The voices of the dead seemed so much louder without the background noise. Several of them began speaking rapidly in terror. Many of the dead had been culled by trolls such as her. “Get away from her,” some shouted. “Death will find you, burgundy blood!” Aradia tried her best to shut them out. After all, she had met Feferi before. She wasn’t as dangerous as her rank suggested. Right?

The fuschia blooded seadweller paused before confronting the cashier. She couldn’t leave the customers standing like that.

“Thank you… everyone.” Nobody moved a muscle. “You can… sit down… if you want. I’m just here to grab some coffee.” Every troll promptly sat down, just in case her permission was an order.

“How can I help you, Your Highness?” Aradia said, taking care to graciously stretch the sentence into almost a song to suit Feferi.

“Um, I think I’ll take… the tall lusus latte. Two, please.”

“Would you like anything extra? Grubsauce drizzle? Caramel twist?”

“Uh... no thank you. Just plain.”

“Coming right up,” chirped Aradia, without so much as a crack in her voice. She pushed through a set of free-swinging doors into the kitchen, where she sharply exhaled in shock. It took several deep breaths to shake her out of her stunned state. She began to smile. It was a wide grin, perfectly expressing the unexpectedness of the situation. Softly chuckling, she remembered the order of two lusus lattes she had been requested to make. It sure was fortunate that she was the only one working that shift. Any of Aradia’s coworkers would have collapsed under the pressure. Maybe they would never have gotten up. The voices perked up at the thought of death. Funny little voices.

It was also fortunate that she had just freshly steamed some lusus milk. Keeping Feferi waiting was probably fine. She was nice enough. But it’s always better to be safe than sorry. And in this case, Aradia didn’t need to be sorry. Because the steamed milk was sitting there, frothy and unaware. She procured two cups and placed them on the countertop side by side. Graceful as a gliding cuttlefish, she meticulously poured out just the right amount of milk for the best latte experience. Placing them on the machine under its two spouts, she spared not a drop of milk when she touched her finger to the espresso button. The creamy white milkiness seemed to absorb the steaming jet of espresso. The coffee bubbled up and down, creating a finite fountain of caffeine and sugar. It took only a few seconds, but soon the cups were brimming with foam. Wasting no time, Aradia swept them off the machine and onto the countertop.

She snapped plastic lids onto the twin drinks. Indeed, these may have been the best Aradia had ever created. Precisely crafted to be both perfect and uniform. She slowly inhaled, absorbing the earthy aromas in the room. A bit of dust, some rusty mechanical odor, and coffee. The lifeblood of the shop. With intense determination, she grasped both drinks and marched back to the counter.

Feferi was glad to see the barista again. It had been awkward to no end to stand there at the counter while everybody gawked at her. Despite her efforts, nobody dared take their attention from the heiress. It had been silence. Deafening, awful silence. But now, Aradia had emerged from the swinging doors, calmer and more collected than anybody within blocks of the shop.

“Here’s your order, Your Highness! Enjoy!” She smiled as she handed the drinks off to Feferi. The heiress was somewhat surprised. She had never seen coffee made so quickly by someone else. Eridan often took upwards of fifteen minutes. This had been done in two!

“Wow, this service is amazing!” she said, accepting the cups.

“We try our best,” replied Aradia, quite flattered.

“Wait, how much?”

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

“How much… do I need to pay? For the drinks?”

“Oh, for you it’s no charge.”

“No, really. I insist.” The drinks were already on the counter and her hands were already in her bag.

“Well, it’s usually 12 boondollars, but I can offer you a discount.” Feferi had already fished out a 25-dollar coin.

“Is this enough?”

Aradia weighed her choices. Accept the money or decline it? If she accepted it, she’d get the company more money. It was always nice to have some extra credit, right? “That’s… just fine. Thank you.”

Feferi flicked a 50-dollar coin into the tip jar. “For the fintastic service. Thank you.”

“C-come again soon,” said Aradia, stuttering her line for the first time in months.

 

\--

 

The rink was far from silent when Feferi arrived. There was the scraping of skates on a frigid, hard surface. There was the low crooning of Gamzee’s commentary echoing in the large space. Most persistent of all sounds were Eridan’s frustrated fish noises. Those were mostly loud grunts and mumbled curses, with a sprinkling of non-mumbled angry cries. Feferi had heard these many times before. They weren’t typically this agitated, but she knew them nonetheless.

“Morning, Eri! I’ve got coffee.” She stepped to the edge of the concrete to better address her partner. “Looks like you need a break.”

“Ya think?” Eridan pulled out of the spin he was practicing. “Our dearest choreographer has been working me to oblivion.”

“It’s all part of the great learning plan, Dan,” Gamzee said, blinking lazily in his pupil’s direction.

“Well, your plan isn’t working. And don’t call me Dan. Say my whole glubbing name.” He shuffled to Feferi and accepted a warm, steaming latte.

“You let her call you Eri.”

“It’s a term of endearment. You wouldn’t understand.” He took a sip. The balance of espresso and milk was surprisingly perfect. He felt the warmth run down his throat, enjoying both the sensation and the flavor.

“What… is this?” Eridan asked, furrowing his brow.

“Just a latte.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Just this shop around the corner. Figured I’d support a local business.”

“I’ll need to ask whoever made it for their technique,” he said, taking another eager sip.

“I’m shore shell agree. She was the nicest burgundy blood I’ve ever met! She made these lattes in two minutes.” At the mention of the creator’s blood color, Eridan hesitated a bit. He said nothing, making sure to enjoy the latte slightly less as he drank more of the caffeine-rich beverage.

“So, Gamsea. Is there anything I missed in practice today?”

“Nothing much. I’m just tryna get Dan’s mothergrubbin’ spins fixed. There’s some moves you’ll need to work on together, though.”

“So I’m good?”

“So nookin’ good. Like, almost-ready-to-learn-our-program good.”

“Finally!” Eridan jubilantly said, flourishing his half-finished latte through the air. “A month to the tournament and we’re starting to learn our program! Grubbing fabulous.”

“I keep mothergrubbin’ tellin’ ya, man. It’s all part of the plan.”

“Whatever.” He placed his coffee on the top of the wall. “Can we start learning right now? I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“Slow the grub down, dude,” said Gamzee. “You still need some fine tuning.”

“You mean… fine tuna?” Feferi joked.

“Heheh. You betcha.” Gamzee grinned. Eridan did not.

“Can I sea your progress, Eri? I’m curious,” said Feferi. “What have you been working on?”

“Yeah, show her what you got, mothergrubber!” Gamzee declared.

“Fine,” grumbled Eridan. Reluctantly abandoning the warmth of his latte, he pushed off towards the center of the rink. Accelerating steadily, he scraped the ice with his skates with relative finesse. It wasn’t too long before he had built up enough momentum to keep himself going through a spin. When he had judged this himself, he lowered down into a sitting position on one leg. The other leg he extended in front of him, grasped by both hands. Touching his forehead to his shin, he remained in position as he rotated rapidly on the slick ice. Feferi seemed to find this position quite funny as she watched.

“Eridan!” she giggled as he folded out of the spin. “No offense or anything, but that looked ridiculous!”

“It’s a simple sit spin,” explained Gamzee. “But that position is called the shoot-the-quackfowl position.” Feferi laughed harder, nose crinkling in pleasure.

“Wow, Eri. I hope that spin is just for building your leg strength!”

“Shut up,” mumbled Eridan. “I don’t need such mockery in my life right now.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Bossy!”

Eridan slumped a little, but was well aware that Feferi meant no offense. He glided back to the other trolls. “Am I done now?” he asked, picking up his drink once more.

“You’ve got to do a couple more spins,” said Gamzee. “But afterwards you two can finally learn your mothergrubbing routine!” Eridan perked up a bit as he sipped from his latte.

“If it’ll get us there, I’ll do the spin some more,” he said.

“I need to get my skates on,” said Feferi. “Keep improving, Eri!”

“Like I have a choice.” She disappeared from the room and he was left to deal with his picky instructor.

“She’s a wicked catch,” said Gamzee once she was out of earshot.

“She’s royalty, nooklicker. Of course she’s a seadweller.”

“No, pun not intended. I mean, when’s your next mothergrubbing makeout session?”

“What?! No, we’re just moirails!”

“‘Just moirails’ my bulge.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Love is a miracle. Accept it, man.”

“Can we go back to perfecting my sit spin?” said Eridan, growing more uncomfortable in his denial.

“All right. But heed my words.”

 

\--

 

Sollux wasn’t having the best day. He’d gotten soaked in mind honey, the voices in his head were particularly irritating, and now he’d forgotten his equipment in the skating rink locker room.

He silently cursed himself, trapped between an attitude of despair and an attitude of frustration. The voices raged on inside his divided mind, amplifying his state to increasingly uncomfortable levels. The front doors of the rink were only obstacles in his path. Although they were overcome easily, conquering the doors wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he wished it would be. But he wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about the doors. All he wished was that he was back at his hive with his equipment.

He almost forgot the way to the locker room in his flurry of dual annoyance. Half of him wanted to walk all the way to the other locker room on the opposite side of the building, but his more sensible half knew the closer one was the one that housed his husktop, soundboard, and several bee-powered gadgets. Sollux at last located the door to the locker room and pushed it open.

“Oh, hi, Sollux!” He was still registering the presence of the speaker as she spoke. “Forget somefin?”

“Yes… Your Highness.” Feferi Peixes. Right there. Sitting on a bench, speaking to him like an equal! Her jewelry was glittering in the dim light of the concrete room, signifying her status. But her expression did not. It seemed almost like he’d known her for a long time rather than the few months they’d exchanged words.

“Good, I was wondering who that bag over there belonged to. Glad it’s found its home again!”

“Yeah, that’s… me.” That was such a dumb thing to say. Sollux was so ashamed of himself. Feferi tilted her head a bit, examining the yellow blooded troll.

“Somefin wrong, Sol? You’ve got a fishy look on your face.”

“Nothing, I’m just…” Think of a word, Sollux. You can do it. “... Tired.”

“I sea! You’ve been hafin a bad day. You’re so grouchy when you’re feeling blue!”

“So what if I am?” Now he’d blown it. He’d snapped at the heiress!

Feferi giggled. “I think it’s cute, don’t you sea?”

“Umm, you… think it’s cute?”  
“You heard me!”

“Haha. Wow, you’re funnier than you let on, Your Highness.” Good. Self-deprecation. His favorite attitude. This was safe.

“I’m searious! You think I’d lie to our lighting guy?”

“I dunno, you might. I don’t know you very well.” Sollux accidentally raised his voice a bit too loud for his liking. Stupid duality. He inched toward his bag, avoiding all eye contact with the highblood in front of him.

“Well, that’s something you should know if we’re ever gonna be friends. I never lie to someone I trust!”

“Who said anything about friends?” Sollux retrieved his bag from off the hook on the wall, fulfilling his purpose. Now if he could just get out of the conversation…

“I wanna make your acquaintance eventually. You’re the magic behind the show!”

“Yeah, sure. Listen, I gotta go back to my hive. I’ve got important work.” His humbler side kicked in. “I mean, if that’s okay with you. Your Highness.”

“No need to call me ‘Your Highness’. You’re good. Sea you around, Sol!” The door shut with a thud. No parting words, no goodbyes. Just the thump of a closing door, and then silence.

Feferi sighed. Not a lovestruck, high-pitched sigh, but a heavy, doubting sigh. Did he even want to be friends? There were so many fish in the sea, but the only one she really wanted to be acquainted with was a troll who might not even be interested! She wished she had psychic powers like the middle bloods. She would have been able to read his thoughts, or maybe even discern whether he thought she was cute. Or pretty. Or anything, as long as it was as positive as the adjectives she added to his name.

But all at once, she remembered skating. And her partner. And her duty. She laced up her skates vigorously, forcing out all her other thoughts. She was going to be a top skater, and that was all she was going to focus on. At least… for the time being.

Meanwhile, Sollux was almost in hysterics there in the empty hall. He’d had such a brief encounter with Feferi, yet somehow he had managed to screw everything up. He counted. Ten things. There were ten things he regretted doing in… how many sentences? Sollux threw out all his information in an angry mental inferno. He didn’t care about the statistics! He’d been a total jerk to the  _ heiress of Alternia _ ! He ran to the lobby, trying to move faster than his thoughts.

But something made him stop. Something not belonging to either side of his mind. Could he make this better? Sollux began pacing the polished stone tiles. He certainly didn’t want to go back into the locker room. But then again, what would happen to him if he didn’t? He might lose his reputation. Maybe even get culled for disrespect. Somehow, Feferi’s opinion took a higher priority than the loss of his own life. But did that matter?

A troll walking past the glass doors peered inside, frowning at the strange yellow blood pacing around the lobby like an idiot. Sollux quickly strolled to the hallway, acting as if that was where he was going the whole time. His hand moved up to his face. It seemed as if he was destined to be a complete moron. He thought for a bit. If he could be a moron then, he could be a moron in front of Feferi, he decided. It only took that tiny burst of determination to send him down to the locker room door again. No regrets, he reminded himself as he grasped the door handle.

He swung the door open, but Feferi was gone. Just a vacant bench and a bunch of lockers.

Sollux released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. However, it still wasn’t over. His determined attitude carried him to the door on the other side of the room, the one leading out into the rink. No regrets. No hesitation. He yanked open the rink door and felt the cold air rush past his face.

Feferi did not see Sollux standing there in the doorway. She didn’t feel the deflation of his mood or the building annoyance in the pit of his stomach. Neither did she feel the out-of-place sense of betrayal, nor would she have understood it if she had. Feferi saw only Eridan’s face as she attempted to maintain perfect form under her choreographer’s watchful eye. Sollux was not aware of the direction of her thoughts, only the direction of her face. Of course. It always led to Eridan. Slouching and frowning, he shut the door in front of his own face. Serves him for trying, he thought.

That wasn’t his proudest moment, neither was it his best day. In fact, it was quite the contrary. His least proud moment and his worst day. He tried his best to forget the exchange as he walked out the door, unaware of Feferi’s concern for him. She had never forgotten, nor would she ever forget. But at that time and place, her skating was her passion. On the ice in the body of the building, she swept around the surface, poised and perfect. She left her worries for tomorrow as she pursued her dream, one step at a time. Sollux would have to wait.

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Gamzee says "mothergrubbing" a lot. Like it's much different from canon. It's HARD to write Gamzee without using swears! Fight me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an eventful day. Costume design day is upon Nepeta and Equius, and shenanigans ensue! Introducing a new character to the Alternia on Ice lineup, Kanaya Maryam.

Two cheerful notes bounced off a crimson cavern wall, echoing as they flew. The sound was brisk and sharp, designed to grab the attention of the user. Any troll would recognize those two notes. The Trollian notification sound was a welcome addition to any time of the day. Good-night messages rang at the end of a long day, pictures of food flooded into devices at mealtimes, and good-morning messages made every troll’s morning mood at dawn.

When Nepeta heard the sound, she had assumed the sender of the message she had received was Karkat, the target of not very few of her flushed fantasies. It wouldn’t be completely truthful to say that she wasn’t disappointed when she excitedly opened the Trollian tab. But as she scanned the distinctive cobalt blue text, she soon became curious. It wasn’t often that she received a message from her choreographer, and this message was even more irregular than she had initially predicted.

“Hey guys,” the message began. “As you pro8a8ly know, the sk8ting tournament is in a8out a month now! You guys can sk8 well enough to skip this rehearsal, so tod8y you’ll go with Kanaya for costuming. She will meet you 8oth there. I will 8e practicing my free program at the rink while you do whatever. Got it????????”

She did, in fact, get it. She raised her arms to the keyboard to type a response, but at that moment her lusus decided it was time to rub her body all along Nepeta’s smaller frame. Pounce’s sudden contact almost knocked Nepeta off her feet. She chirped aloud in surprise, much to Pounce’s amusement. The large cat lusus purred, sending soothing sound waves bouncing through the cave. Nepeta giggled. Nothing could be quite as comforting as a lusus’ purring. Not even the twin notification notes that resulted from Equius’ response to Vriska’s message. That response appeared on the screen just then. It was clear and concise, conveying a message of equal indifference and affirmation in a single word: “Ok.”

Equius had typed this with extra care. He had just been wrangling and smashing a few faulty mechanical mistakes, and it wouldn’t do to smash something he may not be able to fix. He knew that sometimes, his strength was overpowering. In fact, he was quite proud of it. But when all was said and done and the robot parts lay scattered on the cold, hard floor, he found himself somewhat missing his moirail’s gentle strength. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe the shard of metal embedded loosely in his forearm. But since Vriska advised Nepeta to rest from her training, he’d gotten used to her energy in the morning.

But he didn’t want to think those things that day! Costume design was already going to have a negative effect on his inflated idea of masculinity. He shook the thoughts out of his head and thundered over to the pile of metal that housed his hidden posters. He fished one out and unfurled it. Gazing upon the wondrous display of sheer strength, he took a deep breath. Today, he had to be strong.

\--

Ironically, Equius was not nearly as strong in most prospects as another troll nearby. Kanaya was stronger by far. As she hauled multiple boxes of clothing into a locker room (an outstanding testament to her formidable physical strength), she took care to forget the last time she had done this. It had been only a sweep. She had been designing for Vriska. She had taken this exact same path to the locker room, trodden the same floor. It was a minor physical memory, but attached to it was a wealth of emotional memory. Against her will, Kanaya recalled her flushed feelings for Vriska. By the Sufferer, that was an embarrassing age. Promises broken, thoughts dwelt on. The memories would have been more bearable if she had moved on. If she had forgotten Vriska. But here she was, fostering a pale relationship with a bad memory.

But Kanaya was strong because she moved those boxes without a second thought. Because she forged on. Even though she was as tired as an elderly mother grub, she fostered and kept relationships a certain way for the good of the other or others. Not even Equius could boast that. In fact, it was doubtful that he’d experienced an auspistice at all!

Strength, however, does not equal perfection. She couldn’t fathom what could perfect herself, neither was she anxious to find out. All she wanted to do then was make these costumes and make them well. Maybe even perfectly. But we all know that nothing can be truly perfect, at least not for long. Kanaya drifted across the tiles on the floor to the lobby. When everyone was here, she would bear her job with a smile. There, she patiently waited for her models to arrive.

Nepeta was the first to do so, dragging her partner by the arm through the front door. Of course, he could have stopped her in an instant, but it was cute to see such a little thing trying to be so strong. It made him feel more powerful. She was already inside the building by several paces before she noticed the other troll in the room. Halting her excited motions in courtesy, she stood upright and smiled at Kanaya. Equius, standing as tall and wide as ever, nodded at her.

“Good morning. You must be Kanaya.” The designer who had been addressed nodded back, furrowing her brow a little as she reevaluated her decision to round down her sample costume sizes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Equius,” she said, smiling graciously. “Hello, Nepeta. I see you’re doing well.”

“Just as efurr!” Nepeta said with her signature alacrity.

“I read your stories on the memo last night. Your imagination is very engaging to witness.” Nepeta smiled and tilted her head.

“Tavros is so much fun sometimes! Too bad his apurrent cat allergies can be a furmidable obstacle.”

“You work well together.” Kanaya began to walk toward the locker room. “I hope both of you can work together just as well tonight. Come along, my supplies are in the locker room.”

“Don’t you worry! We’re ready fur anything.”

The skating partners followed Kanaya’s sweeping steps down the hall, walking briskly but not hurriedly. Nepeta traced the wall with her hand as she always did. The slightly rough texture pleased her fingertips, and at this point it had become more habit than anything. Kanaya held her head high, seeming much more poised than she actually was. It was only a small detail, but it was enough to make Nepeta wonder in admiration at her grace. Kanaya reached the locker door. She opened it and held it for the skaters before entering.

“All right,” Kanaya said, closing the door behind her. “Where shall we start?” The skaters took in what she had prepared. Glittering fabric spilled out of boxes, adorned with sequins and stones of every sort. Some fully and partially formed garments lay spread on the bench, glinting under the harsh overhead light.

“Can I go furst?” Nepeta implored, eager to touch and admire each textile.

“Certainly.” Kanaya held up one of the smaller garments to Nepeta’s figure. “You’re going to have a more royal theme to your program, if I’m not mistaken?” Nepeta smiled.

“I guess Vriska told you, huh? It’s supposed to be a story of a strong, mighty highblood who falls in love with a lowblood girl because she snuck out one night disguised as a princess!”

“I never agreed to it,” interjected Equius. Nepeta giggled, making Kanaya chuckle in agreement. She lowered the outfit with a flourish.

“This one may fit you, but let’s look at the other ones before you try on anything.”

“Take your time! It’s better than skating for Vriska all day.” Kanaya nodded, suppressing thoughts about her own experiences.

“Has she shown you any of her freestyle program?

“Um… no. She hasn’t said anything about it, actually.” Nepeta had never thought about what her choreographer was doing. The new idea piqued her curiosity. “Have you seen any of it? What’s the music?”

“Oh… I’m sure you’ll know soon enough.” Kanaya artfully dodged the question, already feeling her face acquire touches of jade green. Nepeta was a little disappointed, but didn’t pry.

Equius wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. The girls seemed to be getting along really well as they essentially ignored him. He didn’t mind, of course. He’d rather remain silent than anything. But he felt sort of awkward just standing there, doing nothing. Kanaya, of course, noticed his behavior and made an effort to include him in the conversation.

“So, Equius… How is your progress on your program?” Equius paused, constructing his response.

“We know it all. Not perfectly.”

“Ah.” Kanaya nodded, trying to manufacture something to say. “... Is Vriska a difficult coach?”

“We’ve had worse.”

“Who was your last coach?”

“Nobody you know.”

“If you say so,” Kanaya set down the last of the costumes.

“Can I try them on meow?” Nepeta asked, guessing the next step correctly.

“That was the plan. There are some I’m not sure about, but you should be able to pick out your favorite.” Kanaya glanced in Equius’ direction. “Um, Equius?”

He grunted his acknowledgement.

“Would you mind giving your partner a bit of privacy? You can go watch Vriska’s routine while you wait.”

“Of course,” he said. He ventured to the door, stepping through it with a careful slowness as to not destroy the door.

The first thing that hit Equius when he stepped into the rink was the music. He wasn’t even one for music, but this type of music struck him as… unusual. Deep. Full of sweeping synth. It was almost… sultry? Equius stifled the thought. He was trying to avoid sweating too much today.

But oh, it was worse once he saw the dancer. He had entered during the climax of the song, when the choreography she had created was most intense. Lips parted, eyes hooded, Vriska sped across the ice. Her hair was loose, an unusual choice. It whirled around her head manically, some of it getting into her mouth and sticking to her lip gloss. Normally, this would be detrimental to the performance. But here? That detail nailed the mood perfectly.

She spared no expense to uphold the aesthetic. Her hips swiveled in exaggerated motions, accenting each functional twist and turn with a suggestive flair. Her arms and hands spent equal time tracing the curve of her body as they did extending. Her spins contorted her into strange positions, each one more provoking than the next. To the untrained eye, it wasn’t much. But to the eye of a skater? It was shocking at best. She was doing the bare minimum it took to make a program, packing it instead with a certain appeal she appeared to be very good at.

Equius couldn’t help the perspiration from his forehead. It was freezing inside the rink, but Vriska’s dance made it hotter than the Alternian desert. He shook his head, assuring himself of his lack of quadratic feeling toward Vriska. He took a seat in clear view of her. She gave no acknowledgement of him. If she noticed him, she didn’t show it. She kept on skating, displaying every detail in her provocative program. He studied her motions with a scrutinous eye. How did someone so much smaller than him project the illusion of strength so well? If he was the thinking type, he would have pondered this. But instead he kept watching, more mesmerized than inspired.

Nepeta was just as mesmerized, but for a very different reason. She ran her fingers over the fabric she now sported upon her torso. In the handheld mirror Kanaya had brought, Nepeta thought herself the lowblood princess in the flesh!

“Hmm, I’m not sure about the color. What do you think?” Kanaya said, eyeing the bodice, envisioning every stitch she’d need to change in order for it to flatter Nepeta.

“It’s purrfect! I love it!” Of course she did.

“All right. If you love this one, you’ll love the others. Let’s put this in the ‘maybe’ pile for now.” Kanaya was speaking very metaphorically.

She picked up one of the more completed articles of clothing. “This one might bring out your skin tone a bit better.”

“This one has a few skirt ruffles!” Stating the obvious, Nepeta grabbed the costume. “I’ll try it on. Don’t peek!”

“I won’t,” assured Kanaya. This was followed by several seconds of grunting noises. Kanaya smiled a little. She knew those sounds.

“Do you need help, Nepeta?”

“I, uh… yeah.”

“Okay, but that means I have to look. Are you okay with that?”

“Um…” Nepeta considered her offer. The bodice had been much too small, and its fastening system had malfunctioned. She couldn’t reach the back. Slipping it over her head had failed, leaving her stomach and abdomen mostly exposed. She had no means of getting out alone. But, on the other hand…

“Yeah, that’s… fine. Just… try not to stare?” Nepeta trusted Kanaya.

“No need to worry. I work with models all the time.” Kanaya turned around, and suddenly her understanding of the situation changed.

All over the trapped skater’s body were scars. Yes, white-lined battle scars from hunting, but also different scars. Sharp, deep parallel lines laced with olive green. No other wound of this type could be found anywhere but her side. It was almost shocking to Kanaya. She only expected Nepeta to be embarrassed about her body, but this… this was more than just that. She tried to keep her promise to not stare.

She circled to Nepeta’s back and began undoing the overly tightened laces in the corset.

Nepeta broke her uncharacteristic silence. “You saw them, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna ask me about them… or what?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I guess. I don’t know.”

“All right. Where did you get those cuts on your side?” Kanaya felt her take a deep breath.

“Sometimes… I get really stressed. Like when Karkat says something mean or when Pounce doesn’t get home until late.” Kanaya listened attentively. “And sometimes… I don’t want to feel stressed anymore. So I…” She trailed off, figuring Kanaya had understood.

“So you do this to make yourself feel better?”

“No, not really. It’s kinda… relaxing. I mean, it’s bad and all. But sometimes I can’t stop myself.”

Kanaya didn’t know quite how to respond. Was this a function of terrible depression? It didn’t seem like it. She wished she knew more about Nepeta. That way she could help.

“I tried to do other things. Biting. Hitting the wall. But everyone would see the next day and I’d just get so stressed about it… So I started doing that.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“No, not even Equius.” Kanaya finished her undoing of the laces.

“Have you tried telling anyone yet?”

“No. They wouldn’t understand.”

“Nepeta,” Kanaya walked around to face her. They made eye contact. “I know people well enough to say that they will try. You might need to explain it a few times, but trust me. Telling someone is so much better than keeping a secret. Thank you for telling me, but telling someone else might be better. Okay?”  
“Okay.” Nepeta gazed into Kanaya’s eyes. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

“You can probably get that bodice off now.”

“Oh yeah, thanks! You’re pawsome, Kanaya.”

“I try,” said Kanaya, smiling a caring smile.

“Um, can you not look for reals this time?”

“Okay, tell me when you’re in the other outfit.”

“Gotcha!”

 

\--

 

It may have taken longer than necessary, but in an hour or two a plan for Nepeta’s costume was taking shape. Luckily for Kanaya, they had agreed on a mostly-finished costume. It was a striking lime green base with accents in yellow and yellow-green. A respectful arrangement of colors for a skater of her caste, yet elegant enough to tell the intended story. It needed a few adjustments relating to size and flair, but it was far from an intensive workload.

Equius, on the other hand, was much more difficult. Kanaya had foreseen this by letting Nepeta choose the color and theme of the costumes, but the one thing she did not foresee was Equius’ sheer size. None of the costumes she had brought fit him. I’ll spare you most of the details, of course, but suffice it to say that most of their conversations followed a manner similar to this:

“This article is unlikely to fit me.”

“I know it is. I just need to see the fabric against your complexion.”

“I’ll not remove any of my clothing with a lowblood in my vicinity.”

“My blood isn’t even that low! Just put the grubbing shirt on!”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll leave the room until you’re done.”

“This will not be sufficient covering for my muscles.”

This, of course, drove Kanaya to almost absolute madness. However, they managed to devise a tactic that involved making a robe completely from scratch there in the locker room. Kanaya thanked the heavens for her decision to bring extra muslin.

As the skaters left the locker room for the final time that day, Kanaya breathed a deep sigh. She brushed the eraser shavings off her pad of paper, revealing her sketches for the finished product of each outfit. This would all work out just fine.

Vriska pushed open the door, skates still donned and hair a mess. Kanaya looked up from her drawing, trying not to think too hard about how Vriska’s appearance made her feel.

“How was practice?” Kanaya asked, attempting to be amiable.

“Fine, I guess. I’ve gotten really rusty on my quads.” Vriska sat down on the bench and began untying her laces. “Equius seemed to like it.”

“Do you mean that in a sarcastic way or an understating way?”

“Understating. The guy was sweating really hard. Sweating! It’s grubbin’ cold in there!” Vriska yanked one skate off of her foot.

“It seems like that isn’t uncommon with him,” muttered Kanaya.

“Was he getting all weird today?”

“Yes! He wouldn’t shut up about how much of a lowblood I was.”

“He’s probably having a bad day. He does that to me, too. My blood is literally only one caste lower than his! What is his problem?”

“He is certainly… unique.”

“You got that right.” She freed her other foot from the remaining skate. “At least he saw most of my program. He can eye me up all he wants, but he’ll never get with me. I think it intimidates him a little. It’s good for him, right?”

“Right.” Kanaya did her best to mask how she identified with that dilemma.

“Well, I should be going. The rink’s closing soon.” Vriska stood up and opened the door to the hallway. “See you, Kan.” She closed the door briskly behind her.

“Thanks for offering to help,” muttered Kanaya, casting the fabric-filled boxes an annoyed glance.

At times like this, she wondered why she adored Vriska so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vriska's program is to this song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIcHCSxuHGQ  
> It's pretty much just headcanon since this song shouldn't exist on Alternia, but hey, it's fanfiction. Anything can happen.


End file.
